


Serenade in the Winter Sun

by BoredMoose



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fairy!Viktor, Fairy!Yuuri, Fluff, M/M, just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 15:15:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13056609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoredMoose/pseuds/BoredMoose
Summary: With being a spring fairy came a lot more rules than one would imagine.Because it’s not just jumping around after Winter has passed, watching the grass grow under your feet as the snow melts under your fingers. It’s not just laughing along with the birds, creating most beautiful melodies with nothing but your fresh breath, warming the ground and the trees to help them burst with colorful flowers and leaves. And it most certainly is not just running along with the kids barefoot, playing tag and scattering shiny dust from the tiny wings on your back.In which spring fairy Viktor meets a winter fairy Yuuri. And of course he falls in love.





	Serenade in the Winter Sun

**Author's Note:**

> A gift to the wonderful http://anibinz.tumblr.com/! Happy holidays and have a wonderful time! <3 Hope you enjoy this bit of fluff  
> (gifted by http://thetoastlady.tumblr.com/ and I really need to change this handle by now)

With being a spring fairy came a lot more rules than one would imagine.

Because it’s not just jumping around after Winter has passed, watching the grass grow under your feet as the snow melts under your fingers. It’s not just laughing along with the birds, creating most beautiful melodies with nothing but your fresh breath, warming the ground and the trees to help them burst with colorful flowers and leaves. And it most certainly is not just running along with the kids barefoot, playing tag and scattering shiny dust from the tiny wings on your back.

Rule number one, according to Yakov: being a fairy isn’t about _fun._

“You can’t enjoy something that is your responsibility,” he mentioned once, when Viktor asked him why his face looked so weird as everyone watched the last bits of snow melting. Everyone was exhausted after preparations and he could see it in their faces, the relief as the wet ground became habitable once again. Surely, it wasn’t the last time the snow had fallen, spring deals with her fair share of moods, he’s been told. But after today, they would finally be let out from underground.

It was Viktor’s first season out and he couldn’t have been more excited.

Rule number two, according to all known laws of aviation; there is no way a fairy should be able to fly.

Actually, fairies can’t fly at all. Maybe they could, if the wings were bigger and less fragile to the cold that comes with the still freezing air when it’s time to come out. No books on history or biology would tell you why spring fairies have wings at all. And believe me, Viktor has searched through every damn scroll he could find to learn _something_ about the absolutely useless part of his body. There’s not even a time when he can let them out to the world, as most of his coats and shirts force him to fold and hide them underneath the clothing.

So obviously, most of the time he parades around the tunnels in nothing but pants, disturbing all the other fairies around him. Some days when he goes into work, Yakov throws him a coat without even looking. Other days he just ignores him.

Rule number three, according to basic guidelines of nature; to sow something you must first craft it.

Because there’s not a single thing that comes from nothing at all. So for eleven months a year, waiting for the early spring season to begin, they work. Work _hard_ to prepare for the one special month they can walk out and work even harder.

Ever since Viktor can remember he worked in the flower department under Yakov, which was the most precise job in the industry. If Viktor would have to compare it to anything, creating every flake was like scrubbing with his fingernail in the hoarfrost that would create overnight on his bedroom’s windows’ glass on particularly freezing Winter nights. No flower was the same, as he found out, and so wasn’t any beautiful shape he would wake up to.

(And maybe he was a little inspired by the snowflakes while creating his snowdrops. That was his secret to keep.)

And maybe the hardest rule Viktor has to endure, again, according to Yakov; no interacting with human kids.

It’s gotten tiring, living in the same closed society of faces, some passing after a season and replaced by new ones to school. But it was the same thing over and over again, same walls around him, same tunnels to go through to work and back home and you can’t expect a fairy curious like him to be swallowed by the endless cycle of boredom and routine.

So of course he runs through the window when he feels the first tickles of the morning wind on his 21st birthday.

 

He doesn’t actually want to be discovered by anyone, he realizes after a while of stumbling around in the cold, arms wrapped tight around himself.

Obviously he knew Winter is cold. He grabbed his warmest coat and shoes from the hanger so that his feet don’t melt the snow and cause his footsteps to be discovered. But his warmest clothes are just enough to keep him warm once the Winter gives way for Early spring, which is when they leave their homes to spread the fruits of their labour across the land. He still can’t help but tremble whenever he sees the fog of his breathing, making him realize just how freezing it actually is.

All breath cuts off from his throat though, when he hears the laughter.

He runs towards the sound, losing all the grace he ever possessed on normal ground, instead having his legs drop into the snow to his ankles, making him miss his footing more than once. Still, he doesn’t stop, until he notices the trees thinning out, giving way for a glade, definitely nearer the village than he was ever allowed to visit.

There are three children throwing balls of snow at each other, _snowballs_ , and only seeing it with his own eyes Viktor understands the name. He has never seen enough snow to actually form a ball, that is if his body didn’t automatically cause it to melt whenever he tried to touch it with more than a scrape of his fingernail. They’re laughing and squealing and there is such pure joy on their rosy faces Viktor forgets how to breathe, as if it was even possible with the grin that appears on his face. There’s snow falling all around them, making the scene look like an illustration from one of his books and he’s enamored, so much so that only after a while he notices that no snow falls onto him, not even to melt at the contact.

The snow falls only around the children.

He looks up to the sky, curious and that’s when he sees _him_ for the first time.

On a branch, hidden away in an abandoned bird nest, sprinkling little snowflakes onto the children’s heads, there is a boy, maybe his age or slightly younger. There’s a vibrant blush on his cheeks as he sticks out his tongues in concentration, one hand rummaging through his handbag for more of the powder and the other steadily spreading more into the air. His clothes are gray and brown, almost indistinguishable in the colorless forest, just as his gray hair.

He’s simply adorable. There’s not much more Viktor can say to describe him, especially from the far distance. But he can’t stop looking.

When the children run home (Viktor can’t tell if it’s minutes or hours later, although it seems like the latter when he looks at the much darker sky) the boy scrambles from the treetop, sliding to the ground and their eyes finally meet.

They both freeze (although one would argue Viktor was frozen for a while now). None of them move, eyes searching the blurry figure on the other side of the glade. Viktor shouldn’t even see, technically, that the boy is looking at him, but he _feels_ his gaze and feels his emotions along with it, scared, petrified but also curious and fascinated.

The spell breaks when the boy starts to turn around.

“Wait!” Viktor reaches his hand and takes a step into the open space, his figure clear on display for anyone to see. His own clothing, green and brown with some gray, isn’t enough to mask him from anything, not out in the open. He realizes as much and all the blood drains from his face.

There’s no reason to hold back now though.

He runs towards the boy. It seems like the other is torned between running away and staying in place, the confusion causing him to only take a few shaky steps backwards before Viktor is just a few breaths from him. And there’s so much more to him than Viktor first noticed.

First of all, his hair is not gray. It’s shiny black, its ends covered in what seems like hoarfrost and snow. It’s weird, he thinks, that the boy isn’t shivering, despite being so cold that even his hair freezes over. Viktor fights the urge to touch it but he thinks that if he would give in, it would still feel springy and soft despite looking so cold and dry. He’s shorter than he is too, so reaching out and touching it wouldn’t take much; it also feels like he could bring him in and wrap his arms around him and his chin would perfectly align with the top of his head. He wonders how the hair would smell if he was to bury his nose in it…

He stops himself when he realizes how obviously he was staring. Quickly he gathers himself and smiles, stretching his cheeks so his blush isn’t as prominent.

“Hi! I’m Viktor,” he states, again pushing his hand out for the other to grab in greeting. The boy’s eyes flick between the outstretched palm and Viktor’s face. After a while Viktor takes it back, the words still hanging in the air between them, unanswered. He gnaws at his lower lip. Do humans not shake hands in greeting?

Still, the boy doesn’t do anything but stare at Viktor, blush still on his cheeks from the cold (Viktor now notices how puffy they are, also covered in a faint layer of frosted ice, just like his hair). His eyes are a deep color of brown, reminding Viktor of the ground after a night of rain, ready to be bursting with grass and flowers, framed by blue-rimmed glasses, disturbing the color coordinance on the rest of his body.

“Are you okay?”

Finally, the other boy nods slowly, his mouth opening, as if to say something, but no sound leaves his lips. He averts his gaze, staring now at the branch next to his feet as if his life depended on it, and that’s when Viktor sees his ears.

They’re long and pointy, much like his own, only instead of growing green, they become silver on the ends.

It all clicks, his frozen cheeks, silver hair and why he hadn’t run after the other children. Not to mention how he spreaded the snow on their heads from a hidden spot on the tree.

“You’re a winter fairy, aren’t you?” Viktor couldn’t contain his excitement even if he tried. His smile grows impossibly larger, especially when the boy’s eyes widen in surprise and he touches his ears self consciously. He glances at Viktor’s own ears and something like recognition passes through his face before he slowly nods again.

Of course, Viktor’s heard about other fairies a lot. Or read about them, to be more specific, because Yakov’s grunts were never a good answer to his questions about where the other seasons come from. Winter had seemed all the most interesting to him so he read and read and read until his head was full of stories and myths.

Winter was the most magical of all seasons (right after spring, of course) to Viktor. It was quiet, sleepy, dark and yet sparkly and lively all the same. Summer and autumn strived on what spring brough, painting leaves colors and warming up the air, calling the birds over and then driving them out again. Winter though worked hard to create magical landscapes all on its own, not using the remains of other seasons. It was something else entirely.

Viktor never thought about meeting another season fairy. They are elusive, always trying to stay out of human sight and only coming out when their time would come and hide right away to make room for others. So even if he isn’t supposed to be here, he still hasn’t anticipated the mere chance of seeing one with his own eyes.

“Do you make these yourself?” he asks, pointing to the snow lingering on the cuffs of the boy’s jacket. The boy touches it, as if making sure what he was talking about and nods again. Still, not a single word leaves his mouth.

“Can you speak?” He already knows the boy can understand him, but there’s something about the silence that makes him uneasy, like he is being ignored. In response, the boy’s whole face reddens with a shocked blush and his hands come to clasp at his mouth as he vigorously shakes his head.

“No, as in you can’t speak, or no as in that’s not it?” Another question leaves his mouth as he looks at the boy in confusion. Before the other as much as reacts, he suddenly hears familiar voices from far away. It only takes moments for him to realize they’re calling his name. He knows his absence was noticed and he doesn’t have much time but he also doesn’t want to waste the chance that was given to him. He takes the boy’s hands in his own, gasping, not expecting them to be so cold.

“I need to go. Meet me here, please. Tomorrow?” The last word is called out as Viktor is already running back through the glade. He waves his hand to the other boy in goodbye and when he _finally_ gets a shy wave back, he turns around and runs towards the voices. He spares him just one glance, over his shoulder.

The boy is already gone.

 

They don’t see each other for another year.

It was bothering Viktor at the start, when he was forbidden from going out until the new season. He felt like he was breaking a promise, yet, with snot hanging from his nose and feet frozen cold, he couldn’t bring himself to disobey Yakov’s directions.

But now it’s winter again and Viktor fidgets in his seat. The sky is already dark (which isn’t much of a surprise, the evenings come quicker and quicker with passing days) and he’s staring out, looking at the snow slowly falling outside the window.

If winter fairies create snow themselves (or at least stash it in their homes) and he saw one distribute it himself, does it mean that even now, there’s a fairy outside their caves, showering the ground in snowflakes? His eyes automatically fly up, but he can’t see the treetops, not in the poor light from his room, barely making it through the thick glass.

He wonders if it’s the boy who’s outside his window right now. He wonders if he changed as much as him over the year, if he still wouldn’t speak to him, if he still needs glasses, if his body still looks like it was made of colored ice, except for his rosy cheeks. He was intriguing, in a way, mature and innocent in his silence. Finally, someone Viktor could perhaps...

It’s not a hard decision to make, so he grabs his shoes and the warmest coat he finds and scrambles through the tiny window, kicking some of the snow inside behind him. He doubts anyone will fail to make the connection but he hardly cares in the moment.

Once he’s outside it takes a minute or two of walking around the darkened forest for his eyes to get used to the change in scenery. And surely enough, just three steps away, like a winter angel, stands the boy.

His hair is longer, just like his whole body, growing tall by several inches since he last saw him. His glasses and the shade of his eyes are the same, which also goes for the blush spreading across his cheeks. The newest thing about him though is his smile, along with a spark in his eyes. Viktor can’t help but smile back.

“I knew I didn’t make you up,” he beams, walking closer to the boy, who still looks like he might turn around any moment but fights himself against it. “Others told me there’s no chance you were a fairy and I must have met a human but I knew better.”

The boy chuckles. It sounds like falling snow.

“I’ve been told the same thing,” he says, his voice so quiet it could as well be a whisper. Viktor gasps and just when he’s about to react the boy continues, “I’m sorry I didn’t show up last time, I- I wasn’t allowed to. But I want to make it up to you.”

“You can talk?”

“You didn’t really give me a chance to speak the last time.” He laughs again, pearly, full and beautiful, all in one breath. His voice is just like that, too. It suits him and doesn’t ruin the quiet surrounding him. But it makes him more real, more like something that Viktor can touch and Viktor still remembers the cold of his wrists when he grasped them and asked him to meet him again.

It’s almost funny, because now it’s the boy who catches his hands and he swears his mouth makes the exact same sounds.

“Come on. I want to show you something.”

 

He’s tugged in a specific direction, he notices. The boy jumps impatiently from leg to leg but he doesn’t let Viktor’s hand go to surge forwards, even if he so visibly wants to. They soon make it to the lake, frozen over.

“Here, take these,” says the boy, kneeling on the ground to look through his bag (to Viktor’s dismay he has to let go of his hand to do so) and finally handing over a set of blades, co clear the look like they’re made of ice. Viktor hesitates to take them, though, and he notices because he hastily takes out of the bag a pair of orange knitted gloves. “So nothing melts.” He offers a smile to Viktor who puts the gloves on. He didn’t realize just how cold he was starting to get, again.

(He thinks maybe there’s something about the winter fairy that makes him feel warm no matter what.)

“My autumn friend knitted them for you, when I told him I wanted to do this. Now put these on.” He hands him the blades again, which Viktor now notices are connected to a shoe sole with leather straps. He attaches them to his own shoes before standing up back and noticing that the other fairy now has done the same to his feet. Their hands reconnect on their own accord and they make it down to the lake and Yuuri steps onto the ice without hesitation. Viktor, though, can’t help but stop in his tracks when there’s no more steady ground to walk on.

“Don’t let go of my hand, I won’t let you fall,” the boy says with a reassuring nod and Viktor grips his hand tighter when he finally steps on the ice and buckles. “Bend your knees,” he instructs further and Viktor does as he’s told, holding onto the arm desperately. When he finally regains balance, the fairy pushes his leg back, gliding forward and pulling Viktor along who yelps and pushes his knees together and spreads his feet, trying hard to do _something,_ he doesn’t know what exactly.

The boy laughs, again sounding like pearls colliding together. Not mocking, supporting, and Viktor can’t help but smile in return, being able to finally _finally_ hear it.

“Here, just let me,” he turns around, gliding backwards, but now he can hold both of Viktor’s hands to which he is grateful. And now he finally can look at his face again.

It takes a while for him to gain enough trust in himself to feel comfortable with his footing. He starts making small movements with his feet, although they ache from the kind of workout he isn’t used to. It’s not enough to stop his heart from beating so loudly that he’s pretty sure the boy can hear it. He too notices how used to the sensation Viktor is getting and he asks, “Are you ready to let go now?”

“I could,” Viktor sighs, looking at their joined hands, “but I don’t want to.”

He doesn’t expect the blush that explodes onto the boy’s face and his smile. Although Viktor is proud of himself for bringing such a reaction to life, he doesn’t expect the boy to stumble in embarrassment and lose his own footing.

They both land on the ice, the boy falling to his back and pulling Viktor along with him. Viktor laughs breathlessly when their faces end up so close and he can't help it when he reaches with his gloved hand and _finally_ touches the dark hair. It's not the same, through the material, but he seems to lean into the touch nevertheless, his eyes fluttering close.

“I thought I dreamed you,” he hums, content, despite supporting Viktor’s whole body weight with his own and being pinned into the cold ice. Maybe it's because he’s so cold by nature, Viktor figures.

“It was like a dream,” Viktor agrees, “but it's not.”

Their eyes meet now, the fairy looking up, through his long lashes (were they always this long? Viktor can't remember). They both halt in their breathing but their lungs don't burn. It only takes an inch for Viktor to lean down, leaving a featherlight kiss on the boy’s forehead. Then his cheek. Then his nose. And it's like the boy is getting impatient because he tilts up his head and meets his lips with his.

It's a slow kiss, like they're both still convinced it's a dream to be savored. The fairy’s lips are cold to the touch, but soft all the same, nothing like ice or stone under his fingers. As if to prove it, he lets go of his hands and brings it to his cheek and it's just as soft, like he imagined a year ago. The other hand drifts to his hair and he moans a little when he feels a hand in his own hair. The sound breaks the spell though and they pull apart, half lidded eyes searching their faces.

“Phichit won't believe this.”

Viktor snorts at that because yeah, who the hell is going to believe him either. This begs the question though…

“I don't know if it's too late to ask, but… what is your name?”

This time it's the boy who snorts. And it's so adorable Viktor's heart swells with affection.

“It's Yuuri,” he says and presses another kiss to his mouth. “Does it make up for me not showing up?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You told me to meet you again and I wasn't there!”

“I wasn't there either. I got sick.” Yuuri’s mouth opens and closes like a fish out of the water. Viktor leans down to close his lips with another kiss. Yuuri’s frame still doesn't relax and he pulls away with a frown. “What's wrong?”

“So you thought I did all,” he waves his hands around in the air, “this, just out of context, made you your own ice skates-”

“So that's what it's called,” hums Viktor, impassive to the sudden outburst of shame.

“Viktor, I am so sorry…”

“Do I look like I’m complaining to you?” He means to smirk but he can’t force himself into it, his smile comes out a lot more affectionate. Which has the desired effect anyway; Yuuri blushes and shakes his head. “Then stop sounding like you regret it.”

“Okay, I will. I don’t regret a thing.”

“That’s great. Now let’s get up before I freeze to death.”


End file.
